


Laundry Day

by Mars_McKie



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Crossdressing, Trans Male Character, Transvestite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:11:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mars_McKie/pseuds/Mars_McKie
Summary: Scott finds the easiest way to relax is by doing his laundry.





	Laundry Day

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a few weeks but due to insane work I have only just finally finished it!
> 
> Happy Holidays all xx

Downtime was something that was cherished on Tracy Island; a time for catching up on sleep, a time to avoid Grandma’s cleaning regime, a time for relaxing.

For Scott Tracy, he found the easiest way to relax was by doing his laundry.

Grandma insisted that if the inhabitants of the Island wanted her to wash their clothes, then they had to bring their dirty clothes down to the laundry room themselves. Everyone else took advantage of this offer, but Scott was the exception as -after spending years on his own at University- he had become used to doing his own. Not to mention there were some items of clothing he preferred to keep private.

Basket in hand, Scott strolled down to the laundry room. He had already seen Grandma set the others to their chores (Kayo and Brains opting instead to work on their machines) before heading in the direction of the kitchen and he knew that she would be there for an hour at least. Or, if she finished early then Virgil, Gordon and Alan were upstairs to take the hit from her cookies.

 _Slightly sadistic, perhaps, but I’d rather them than me!_ He thought dryly.

The laundry room consisted of three industrial-sized washing machines, two tumble dryers and a large square sink, with a small mountain of stock-bought detergent and fabric softener. A hotbox stood in the corner, filled with their uniforms.

Scott closed the door behind him, set the basket on the floor and removed the top layer of shirts, trousers, and numerous socks, stuffing them unceremoniously into a machine before turning his attention to the remaining contents of the basket. These were items which he had bought in secret over the years, their existence unknown to all but himself.

The first to go in were the stockings. These were something he was constantly buying as they would inevitably ladder quicker than Thunderbird 1 could make it around the equator. This pair had miraculously made it to the weekend so he zipped them into a delicates wash bag along with a couple of suspenders and garter belts. That had been a mistake he only made once- the first time he had put a garter belt into the machine on its own, the lacy fabric had been ripped apart during the spin cycle.

A mix of cotton, nylon and satin knickers, briefs and thongs went loose into the machine next, followed by the detergent and softener. He set the machine to 30 degrees and hit Start. While he waited for the machine, the corsets would be washed by hand. After learning his lesson with the garter belt, Scott had never trusted the corsets to the machine as they had been a pain to buy on the mainland- trips in secret to Victoria’s Secret or measuring himself for custom orders online (with the excuse that he was measuring himself for a new suit) and he did not want to go through the hassle of getting new ones ordered. His brothers thought he stayed in excellent shape to be ready for rescues... more accurately he couldn’t face outgrowing his bustiers.

After the time when MAX had wandered in and accidentally tried to take one of Scott’s corsets from the hotbox along with his uniform to set back in the elevator down to TB1, Scott didn’t want to risk leaving his lingerie alone lest one of the other inhabitants of the island walk in, so he let the corsets soak in the soapy water and picked a cookery channel to watch on the holoscreen while he waited and relaxed to the drum of the machine.

Once the washing machine had ended its cycle, he put his regular clothes in the tumble dryer and the lingerie into the hotbox, the corsets an odd addition next to the pristine uniforms.

As the presenter finished up a recipe for tiramisu, the dryer hummed lightly and ended its cycle. The lingerie was dry to touch by that point, so it went back into the basket first before he bundled the stuff from the tumble dryer on top, once again hiding the corsets and underwear at the bottom, and set off back to his room.

He kept his drawers so tidy that the military would have been proud- his shirts and trousers folded and hung and the socks paired and put back in their place until only a few items remained in the basket.

Scott unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off along with his trousers and underwear, throwing them towards his dirty laundry basket and stepping into his en-suite for a quick shower. Once satisfactorily clean, he towel dried and ran some Supershine Gel through his hair, slicking it back so that it had a styled windswept appearance.

Back in his bedroom, Scott flicked his comms unit to Do Not Disturb (a precaution added after John had complained about “walking in” on his brothers once too often), selected a pair of clean, black satin knickers from the basket and pulled them on. The silky underwear sat taut across his tight butt, the slight constriction across his crotch pleasant without being uncomfortable and doing nothing to hide his bulge. He hummed a light moan in pleasure.

Fishing through the selection of suspender belts, Scott selected a dark blue one, free from lace and with minimal ties and clipped it around his waist (the hooks and eyes long familiar to him after practising for many years how to put on and take off a bra) so that just a hint of milky flesh peeked between the top of the underwear and the scoop of the belt.

With a great amount of delicacy, he slid the old pair of stockings up his legs one at a time; still warm from the hot box, the thin nylon fabric felt sensational against his skin. These were attached to the suspender belt with the same trained fingers. This was as much as Scott usually dared to wear under his regular clothes, the thrill of hiding his fetish under his family’s noses giving him an adrenaline rush, but now he had time to indulge.

Over the years, he had bought a number of bras, corsets, bustiers and underbust cinchers. He had dismissed PVC fairly early on, the material feeling wrong against his skin, so the ones he kept were comfortable cotton and satin, in a variety of different colours and decorated with varying amounts of frills and lace. There was a plain black corset with shoulders which he usually customised with silver jewellery to make it sparkle, a red underbust cincher with black definition, a bright pink bustier with hot pink lace (he was never quite sure when he would wear it but the sight of it in the shop had been too much to resist), a nude yet sparkly corset, and his favourite turquoise corset with black ribbons which he now chose.

Scott tugged the ribbons loose so that he could slip the corset over his head and it sat over the suspender belt and hid his well toned chest. He laced up the ribbons -not so tight that the boning dug into his ribs, but just so that he was aware of its presence- and tied the excess into a bow between his pecks.

Hidden in the back of his wardrobe, he had three pairs of high heeled shoes which had definitely never seen the light of day as there was never an occasion for which he would wear them- a plain black pair, a tall red pair, and a light blue pair to match his favourite corset. He slipped his stockinged feet into these and walked up and down his room, getting used to the restricted speed and movement. The change of pace felt good and helped him to relax and slow down far better than any other activity could.

Scott tottered over to his drawers, the top of which was laden with hair care products, random notes, old equipment, a family photo, a rock from the surface of Mars and a small metal box filled with jewellery.

Rainbow jewels and precious metals twinkled up at him as he flicked through the necklaces and bracelets, before choosing a pendant necklace comprising a rose whose delicate white gold petals enclosed a single diamond at its centre. The most precious of all of his jewellery as it had once belonged to his mother.

As a child, Scott remembered being fascinated by the rose necklace that his mother wore, to the point that Lucille had let him keep it for himself. On the one occasion he had worn it to elementary school, some thoughtless boys had said some thoughtless things, leading him to realise that boys should not be wearing girls’ jewellery.

It hadn’t stopped there- he hadn’t known what he’d been getting into the time when he was ten and had worn Kayo’s knickers rather than his own briefs after their mother accidentally returned them with his laundry. The same fascination that he had shown for that necklace surfaced again with the cotton frills, so different to his own underwear. But then a two-year-old Alan had toddled into his room and laughed at his big brother and Scott realised once again that this was something he needed to keep private.

The years that followed at high school had been particularly difficult. Being a teen and feeling that there was nobody who he could go to for advice made him doubt himself even more, to the point that he had thrown out the few items of lingerie he had managed to collect in secret, but the necklace he held onto and kept hidden. He later regretted throwing the lingerie away as he missed it worse, so over the years he amassed a small collection until he finally got to a place where he started to feel comfortable about his sexuality.

The only other time the rose necklace had seen beyond his bedroom was when he wore it at their mother’s funeral. It had been a painful wrench to wear it out again, but it had seemed like the best way to make it feel like mom was still there. Jeff had teared up at the sight of it and the necklace had vanished back into the box when they had returned home. With their dad also gone, Scott now wished he had been more forthcoming in asking about its origins.

The necklace clasped behind his neck and the rose sat an inch above the top of the bodice, the white gold metal cool against his warm skin.

Scott exhaled a breath as he examined himself in the mirror. He could do with some make up to really complete the look, but he only owned a few bits because if he failed to remove it then that could be what exposed his fetish to the other inhabitants of the island. Regardless, he did his best to apply liquid eyeliner with a delicate flick to the corners and put on a deep, velvet red lipstick. A bold and daring rouge to contrast against the blues and black. The right side of extravagant to be sophisticated.

Satisfied, Scott puckered his lips and stretched out. Even if he would have to take it all off before too long, for now he felt good.

“Hello sexy lady!”

His heart leapt out of his chest and Scott spun around wildly at the sound of the voice, but in his heels he stacked it and fell sprawled onto his bed.

“Virgil!” Scott attempted to pull the blankets up to his chest like a disrobed maiden in a fairy tale, but Virgil had already seen enough. In his confusion he remained leant against the doorframe, regarding Scott with a bemused expression. Of course Scott had forgotten to lock the door! Choosing to go on the offensive, Scott exclaimed, “Have you never heard of knocking?”

“Hey, don’t get your knickers in a twist!” Virgil smirked.

Scott scowled. “What do you want?”

“Grandma’s finished in the kitchen and dinner is ready. Eat at your own peril.”

“Right,” Scott groaned.

Virgil made no inclination to move. With a slight nod towards Scott’s clothing choice, he said, “Dare I ask?”

No less than a dozen excuses ran through Scott’s head, each less plausible and more laughable than the last, so after a long moment of silence he settled on the truth. With a sigh, the blankets dropped from his chest and into his lap as he sat up and spoke.

“This is what I wear sometimes,” he said hesitantly, not quite meeting Virgil’s eyes. “It feels right and makes me feel comfortable and sexy in my skin. It helps me to relax. That’s all there really is to it,” he finished, feeling like it was a weak explanation.

Virgil’s expression softened into something undiscernible as he looked Scott up and down. They said nothing for a long time. Eventually, Scott hung his head. “What do you want to keep this a secret?” Scott muttered, despair taking over him.

“Nothing.”

Scott looked at Virgil in surprise and this time Virgil held Scott’s gaze, his face earnest. “If this is you, then I’m not going to blackmail you with that,” said Virgil.

The blankets were clenched tightly in Scott’s fists. “Really?” was all he could think to say.

“I’m sorry if you felt you couldn’t tell me before,” Virgil continued, rubbing his neck abashedly.

Relief surged through Scott’s chest and he began to feel less self-conscious (though a second later he crossed his legs anyway).

Virgil’s eyes locked onto Scott’s chest. “Is that mom’s necklace?” he asked.

Scott looked down at it, almost surprised to see it still there. “Uh, yeah.” For some reason he thought Virgil might have been too young to remember the necklace, but evidently not.

“You were wearing it at mom’s funeral,” Virgil said in a quieter voice. “I asked dad why you were wearing it, he said he’d given it to mom on their first wedding anniversary.”

Scott’s throat seized. Finally, he had the answer he had been seeking.

“Listen,” Scott murmured, changing the subject to cover the fact that he was holding back tears. “Thanks... for not making a big deal out of this. And for not telling the others. I’ll tell them when I’m ready, but... not yet.”

Virgil held up a hand meekly and smiled warmly. “That’s your decision. It’s not for me to question your life choices,” said Virgil, and Scott returned his warm smile. “I will, however, question your colour choices- rouge with turquoise, what were you thinking?”

“OUT!” Scott yelled with brotherly affection. Virgil grinned and left with a salute.

His face was somewhere between a grin and a grimace as Scott wiped off the lipstick with the back of his hand. He didn’t quite know yet if he was relieved at one of his brothers knowing and accepting him, or burned out by the fact that his fetish was no longer a secret. He realised in that moment when he had asked Virgil how much he wanted in order to keep his secret, the memory of the teasing boys in the playground had came back and he had been ready to throw out all of his lingerie again, ashamed at having been found out. Now, he realised that all he had needed was one person on his side, to tell him that he was normal, and he felt like he could take on the world in his lingerie if necessary.

Mostly, Scott felt irritated as he realised that Virgil was right- the rouge had been a mistake.


End file.
